


Prepare For Trouble (Make It Double)

by FujinoLover



Series: We're Perfect for Each Other (You're Gonna Figure That Out Someday) [6]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU that's not really AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, Multi, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujinoLover/pseuds/FujinoLover
Summary: Hacking human beings as easily as hacking computers combined with being able to field strip a .45 upside down in the dark, because the universe is funny like that.





	Prepare For Trouble (Make It Double)

In the light of Root’s growing confidence in doing business, she started getting a more hands-on approach. She had had her Heizer Defense DoubleTap for a couple of years. It was small enough to be carried in a purse or strapped on her thigh under her dress. With her decent marksmanship and her tendency to shoot within close range after tricking her target first, the double-chambered gun hadn’t let her down yet. However, now she required a different gun with more firepower, in the event that she was required to be more offensive. She had decided to get something common that was easier to acquire and harder to trace. Unlike her first gun, she didn’t spend so much time researching the many options and opted to go to a shooting range instead.

Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she donned a pair of faded jeans and flannel shirt. Her fake ID passed scrutiny at the counter. The man behind it recited the proper instruction as he handed her her choice of rental weapon—a glock 17—after she signed the waiver. She was almost on her way to the range when the man grabbed her wrist. Her skin crawled from the unwanted contact, but she plastered a friendly smile on. There was no need to kill someone so irrelevant when she didn’t feel like driving farther to the next shooting range.

“Yes?”

The man looked a bit affronted when she retracted her arm back, but it didn’t stop him from trying. “Do you even know how to use this thing, sweets?”

Her finger twitched over the gun’s trigger at his patronizing tone. “Of course I do,” she said. “Just picking up the slack since it’s been a while.”

That didn’t deter him. He locked the armory, put an ‘out for lunch’ sign on the counter, and rounded it to stand way too close to her. He insisted on showing her ‘the right way of shooting’. Her polite refusal fell on deaf ears as he rested a pair of earmuffs around his neck and led the way down to the range. It was pretty much empty at this time of the day and she couldn’t help but consider if it would be too petty for her to shoot him on the back right there.

He clipped on a new target, still too busy offering unsolicited lectures about guns and how _pretty girl like you shouldn’t play with one_ that he didn’t notice her putting on the safety goggle and earmuffs and cocking the glock.

The first shot had him yelping in surprise. “Holy shit!”

He scrambled to get his earmuffs on while the firing didn’t cease. He was less confident when she ran out of rounds and turned to him with a too sweet smile, pushing the button to bring the paper target forward for inspection. She was way off from the head and center mass marks. The holes were all located on the middle bottom of the target. He gulped when she made a point to glance at his crotch, as if she was considering how her handiwork would look on his person.

She hummed. “Not so out of practice.”

His laugh came out more like a squeak. Despite his newfound uneasiness, he failed to take the hint and kept pushing on his luck. “Lemme just show you how to—“

Before he could reach for the gun, she removed the empty magazine. Locking back the slide, she made sure there was no round left in the chamber. Once cleared, she released the slide, pointed it at him, and pulled the trigger before the shock settled on his face. It didn’t fire anything, of course, but enough to leave him blanched in fear. She brought the gun back to her, grasping with her thumb under the slide and the rest of her fingers over its rear. After pulling the slide back, she used her free hand to pull down the slide lock as she released it forward. It fell off with ease. The recoil assembly was taken out before the barrel was removed. The gun was field stripped in less than fifteen seconds and she hadn’t taken her eyes off from him as she did so.

“What the hell...” The man gaped. “I-I’ll just...go.” He hightailed it out without another glance.

Although amazed with the skill she wasn’t aware she possessed, Root grinned. She had a feeling that she could do it upside down in the dark too. She was sure she had her soulmate to thank for it.

 

* * *

 

The first skill that became apparent to John was during the time he dated Jessica. It had been a while since they became official. As in boyfriend and girlfriend and she had teased him about how formal he made it to be. Normally, he didn’t do something like anniversary—normally, he didn’t even _date_ , so the third month mark was quite a big deal and worth at least a candlelit dinner.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to make himself think that home-cooked meal was the only proper way to do anniversary dinner. The thought of eating or even ordering out didn’t even cross his mind before he purchased the fresh produce earlier. However, as Jessica took a spoonful of her carrot soup with crème fraîche and hummed in approval, he knew he had done it right.

“You never told me that you cook.”

John shrugged. He had tasted the soup beforehand, but it still blew his mind when he did it again. “I didn’t know either,” he said.

Jessica laughed; it pulled a smile on his face. “You’re kidding, right?” She took another spoonful. “This is really good, John.”

“I wish I was.”

The truth was, he never had the chance to learn how to cook. His mother was too drowned in her sorrow after his father’s sudden death. She didn’t abandon him, but she wasn’t really present either, up until her own death. Having spent all of his early life in the orphanage, he was never fussy about food and it had carried on through adulthood. The army provided every personnel with balanced meals and there were many restaurants to choose from during his time off, so he didn’t have the chance nor the need to cook anything complicated. Until now.

The oven dinged. He excused himself to get the quiche Lorraine out. They were going to have it later for dessert. In the meantime, it replaced the lasagna on the cooling rack. The lasagna was cool enough to be eaten now. It looked crisp and smelled just as good. He put a piece of parsley on top before bringing it over to the dining room. Jessica’s eyes widened when the dish was settled on the middle of the table. John waited for the inevitable, but it never came.

Instead, Jessica smiled at him, all soft and understanding. “Your soulmate is a great cook,” she said. She didn’t sound upset or jealous.

John spent a moment to study her expression before he nodded. “They are.” It was the first time he ever acknowledged his soulmate’s existence to anyone and to his lover nonetheless, when they both knew it wasn’t her. “Jess—“

“It’s okay, John.” Jessica had a hand over his on the table, squeezing in assurance. “Not all soulmates have to be romantic. It can be platonic too.”

He was well aware of the statistic, but he really believed that his case was a platonic one. Because his heart raced whenever he was with the amazing woman in front of him and not when he thought about his unknown soulmate.

 

* * *

 

There was something about Caroline Turing that bothered John since the moment they met. They got into a nice psychoanalyzing verbal joust, but he was no match for her. Less than ten minutes into therapy, she had discovered his real former occupation and pointed out his hero complex—that was way more than the army psychiatrist had figured out during his serve. She knew him as John Rooney and he intended to keep it that way at least until she was safe.

HR moved fast, blowing his cover in their first branch out in murder-for-hire business. He got Caroline out of their first attempt to get rid of her, but they weren’t giving up. He knew the only way they would was by finding the person who had paid them and he couldn’t do that while being out in the street where, as she had said, danger lurking around every corner. It was only logical to bring her somewhere safe to regroup, thus the nearby hotel. He took the honeymoon suit and paid with his black card without missing a beat. He didn’t have time to think about what the receptionist was insinuating with her wide grin as she checked them in, or the fact that he had gone out of his way to keep Caroline safe, or how his overprotective nature seemed to multiple with her.

“I don’t understand. Who would want to kill me?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” John said as he continued pressing on the cut on his forearm with the napkin she had just fetched for him. “Someone with the means and the money to hire a team to get rid of you. Sound like any of your patients?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“The only way to call off the dogs is to find out who hired them.”

“I-I can’t think.” She staggered back to sit on the couch. “I can’t move. This must be what panic feels like.”

He halted on treating the wound, wrapping the cloth around his arm for the time being. “Here, have some chocolate.” He handed her a couple of complement chocolate the hotel provided.

“Will there help to produce an adrenaline response?”

“No, but they taste good.”

Caroline stared at him as though she was trying to figure him out. “Who the hell are you?”

John had a feeling that she knew exactly who he was, but he didn’t voice it out. He could feel her distress and knew that she needed to be comforted—the ease of which he understood human beings as easy as he hacked computers hadn’t slipped Kara’s keen observation back when they worked together. Those skills weren’t even his, but it continued to be very useful indeed.

“Let’s just say we both help people cope with their problems.” She still looked at him with glassy, fearful eyes, so he crouched down to be on her level. “I’m just a little bit more, uh, hands-on.” He reached out to touch her hand, a gesture he hoped would reassure her. “I promise, I will tell you when it’s time to panic.”

The contact was fleeting, mostly due to his concern of crossing the line. There was no spark of electricity, not like how soulmates stories told it, but it had felt right. He was attracted to her, but it was nothing like the passion he shared with Zoe or his admiration for Joss. He thought none of it as he dragged her everywhere, tugging on her arm or grasping her hand just to make sure she stayed close and safe. Perhaps that was how Caroline— _Root_ managed to blindside him and got to Harold.

 

* * *

 

Despite how much Root believed that Shaw and she were perfect for each other, being soulmates became more and more of a pipe dream. She didn’t know how far the skill sharing extended and how bad a personality disorder would affect it, but Shaw’s lack of valuable people skill couldn’t be more obvious. She ate well, but she knew next to nothing about cooking. And while she understood the basic of hacking, it wasn’t much without the program already fleshed out for her. Soulmates or not, there was nothing that could stop Root from bugging the hell out of her.

“Did you miss me?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. She slid the cage door close, but didn’t bother to lock it. Root knew that if she were to make a dash for it, she would get tackled before she even reached the door. She was more intrigued with Shaw’s presence in her current quarter anyway.

“I’m bored,” Shaw said after Root stared at her for a prolonged period, eyebrows quirked up in question. “The boys are out.”

“How can I amuse you out of boredom?”

Root glanced at the padded bench that doubled as her bed tucked in the dark corner of the cage. Shaw followed her line of sight without problem. Her gaze returned and lingered on her next, as though she was considering the suggestion. Root’s heart galloped under her ribs. It didn’t lessen when Shaw backed the lone table and chair to the wall, leaving more space on the middle of the room. She took a sharp intake of breath as Shaw took off her blouse, leaving her in a simple black tank top.

Shaw smirked when she caught Root staring, but her next words brought her mind back from the gutter. “Let’s spar,” she declared, fists raised as her stance changed.

“You’re no fun.” Root pouted then, but pushed away from the slatted window she was leaning over. She made no move to remove her hoodie. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy getting sweaty with you, but I don’t actually know how to fight.”

Shaw narrowed her eyes as though she didn’t believe her. “Come on. Hit me.”

It was Root’s turn to furrow her brows. She never had the interest learn hand-to-hand combat. She had stayed in the shadows and let others did most of the dirty work back in her days as independent contractor. Now with The Machine whispering in her ear and telling her where to shoot, she didn’t see the need to start learning. However, any excuse to touch Shaw while being all hot and bothered with her in such a closed space made the idea of learning not so unappealing anymore.

With such incentive in mind, she was quick to shed her hoodie. She stood in front of Shaw within arm length and balled her hands into tight fists. Shaw stopped her before she could throw a punch. Her hand covered her fist, prying it open. For a hot second, Root almost intertwined their fingers together, but she got half of her mind back and let Shaw positioned her hand in what she assumed to be the correct way. The contact lasted far too short for her liking.

“Keep your thumb outside, tucked under your curled fingers.” Shaw showed her her own fist after she took a step back. “It’ll break if you keep it inside.” She nodded, motioning at Root to hit her whenever she was ready.

Root checked on her fist first. Shaw’s mean right hook was the one that landed her in the Faraday cage. She thought of copying it, coming from the side, but her body said otherwise. Pulling her fist close to her chest, she then jabbed straight forward with her first two knuckles and wrist aligned with her forearm. The strength behind wasn’t enough to knock Shaw out, but it did hit her square on the nose. Root was surprised that it didn’t hurt as bad as when she had to punch Doctor Carmichael on the carotid artery, but her awe turned into horror when she looked up from her fist and saw blood trickling down from Shaw’s nose.

“I suppose that’s fair.” Shaw didn’t seem bothered at all, pinching her nose to check for broken bones without flinching. “That was kinda hot,” she said, smirking as she wiped the blood with the bottom of her tank top and giving Root a nice view of her abs in the process.

Root wasn’t sure whether she felt bad or aroused, but then Shaw came at her without holding back. She blocked an incoming punch with her forearm and step-sided another jab from Shaw’s elbow. Much to her further surprise, she managed to hold up on her own for most part. In the end, her lack of stamina was the reason Shaw could sweep her off her feet—not that she hadn’t done so figuratively.

“You remind me of John.”

Root knew Shaw had meant her fighting style, because she recognized the similarity as well, now that she had the opportunity to do a prolonged hand-to-hand fight. Still, she pouted. “That’s not a nice thing to say when you’re straddling someone.” She rolled her hips up, just to annoy her some more.

Shaw said nothing. She shook her head as she rolled her eyes, getting off of Root and left without helping her up. The door was locked behind her this time. Root dragged herself up onto her bed not long after. Her back was aching from being slammed to the hard floor—she would ask Harold for a thick rug because this sparring with Shaw seemed like it was going to be a frequent occurrence during her involuntary stay. Despite the dull pain, being exhausted was a nice change to the constant questioning of everything that she had been doing since Harold locked her up. Perhaps she would get a good night sleep tonight.

However, as she rolled to her back and closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but think about what Shaw had said. The pointers were all there: being able to ride a motorcycle when she had never been on one before, her impressive marksmanship, field stripping guns as though she had done so a lot before, her surprising high tolerance for pain when Control tortured her, and now her fighting style. It would be suck, but also somewhat right, if the big lug was her soulmate.

 

* * *

 

They were soulmates all right.

The Machine confirmed it for Root when she asked Her. She had known all along that they were two sides of the same coin. The first time they were put in God Mode was the universe giving them a nudge, but every time after was deliberate, because She believed in their skills. She also told her that John had inquired about the real nature of their connection long ago, after he patched her up while she was heartbroken for not finding Her and he somehow felt the same pain.

The transition from enemies to friends was subtle and gradual. The nicknames she gave him became playful rather than mocking. She knew it was true when he told her that he could help her boys get into complex systems if she filled him in, because _she_ could and she shared more than half of her hacking skill with him. And _you elevate abduction into an art_ was his way of complimenting her for doing what he would have done and added a certain elegance into the act.

There was no big revelation, no firework, and no gross romance. Root continued to flirt with Shaw and John was as overprotective of Harold as he always did. They bonded over their shared skills and their love for The Machine and the team. They had each other’s back, up until the end.


End file.
